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  Jan 10 Àŧùl
thyreez-thy
Now that family have separated
From the gathering your funeral brought
Can we still talk of the dearly departed?
When everyone else is so caught
Up in their own sky, clouded by judgment

That a slab of Marble brings people together
And that personal troubles is not above the weather
And the smell of rain as it drips down our hair
To fill the role of tears where our minds don't care

To the grandkids you never got to hug
To the machines that were plugged
The hospital you never awoke from
To me who never visited cause I was afraid and dumb


Do you nod your head in anger? Do your tears Bring rain?
When we stray from the right path and cause each other pain?
Do you regret like we do? Or do you forget in paradise?
Are you finally at peace? Does the ignorance suffice?

I hope you never have to see us at our worst
That only love bursts from your eyes
From the golden Skies, where you hide
That the blinding light hides the truth
That we're struggling in our youth

Find peace Ouma, and please be at the entrance when we die
So we could cry, and be suprised when you haven't changed one bit
That your joy persists and we can't resist looking back
That you're finally on track, no bills or selfish entities
That your soul is intact, and you don't lose your Amenity
A poem on my Ouma(Grandmother) who died around a year back. Came to mind after a emotional spike
  Jan 9 Àŧùl
Immortality
Snow blankets the earth,
Shivers of frost kiss the air,
Calmness wraps the soul.
Winter reminds me of the beauty found in silence, like Frozen Elsa maybe....
However, I still can't enjoy it fully because my fingers swell during this season..... :(
Àŧùl Jan 6
The hospitals,
They sold our disorder
To the pharmaceutical companies.

Places that ought to look after us,
They look at our purse,
For the drugs.
My HP Poem #2038
©Atul Kaushal
Àŧùl Jan 4
Hindi Original:

Ab Aankhon Mein Neend Kahaan?

Wo to bachpan tha jab so jaate the,
Ab to jaane kaisi fikr sataati hai.
Wo to bachpan tha jab kha paate the,
Ab to motaape ki fikr sataati hai.

Wo to bachpan tha jab khwaab sajaate the,
Ab to saari duniya berang lagti hai.
Wo to bachpan tha jab sab apne the,
Ab to duniya dushman nazar aati hai.

Wo to bachpan tha jab khush raha karte the,
Ab to barson puraana duhkh sataata hai...
Wo to bachpan tha jab bhavishya ki chinta na thi,
Ab to beete ateet ka kabhi na khatm hone waala khed hai...


Here's the translation:

Where Has The Sleep Gone From My Eyes?

That was childhood, when I could sleep,
Now, worries keep me awake.
That was childhood, when I could eat,
Now, fears of weight gain haunt me.

That was childhood, when I'd weave dreams,
Now, the whole world seems colorless.
That was childhood, when everyone was my own,
Now, the world seems like an enemy.

That was childhood, when I was always happy,
Now, decades of sorrow haunt me...
That was childhood, when I didn't worry about the future,
Now, the unending sorrow of the past haunts me...
My HP Poem #2037
©Atul Kaushal
Àŧùl Jan 3
1, 2, 3, 4!
School mein hain bacche jitne,
Maangte hain paise utne!
Kya bataaun hain ye kitne,
Books hi books hain yahaan-wahaan!

Ghar mein bacche baste hain,
Sabko bacche janchte hain.
Baithe zidd ye pakad ke,
Khiloune jab maange.
Khiloune hain ye maangte!

Oh!

Kharcheele kharcheele!
Bacche hain kharcheele!
Cheeni ki hain raatein!
Daant inke dheele!

Duniya bacchon ka ghar hai,
Chehra sabka jaise pyaara hai.
Baithe zidd pakad ke,
Khiloune jab maange.
Khiloune hain ye maangte!

Oh!

Kharcheele kharcheele!
Bacche hain kharcheele!
Cheeni ki hain raatein!
Daant inke dheele!
Kharcheele kharcheele!
Bacche hain kharcheele!
Cheeni ki hain raatein!
Daant inke dheele!

Here's the translation:

1, 2, 3, 4!
There are kids in school as many,
They demand money as much!
What can I say, they're so many,
Books are everywhere, here and there!

Kids are at home, all around,
Everyone's checking on the kids.
Sitting stubbornly, they demand,
Toys when they want them.
They want toys!

Oh, what expenses!
Kids are so expensive!
Nights are like sugar,
Their teeth are so weak!

The world is a home for kids,
Every face is lovable.
Sitting stubbornly, they demand,
Toys when they want them.
They want toys!

Oh, what expenses!
Kids are so expensive!
Nights are like sugar,
Their teeth are so weak!
A Rock On!! Parody of the song Zehreelay Zehreelay.

My HP Poem #2036
©Atul Kaushal
Àŧùl Jan 3
I talk a lot.
In 2012, I created a blog.
There, I talked about the next ice age.
The Milankovitch cycles, you know.
It's still 50,000 years away,
But our actions, yes, the human actions,
They can disrupt the cycle.
My HP Poem #2035
©Atul Kaushal
Àŧùl Dec 2024
Another birthday comes.

And I'm grateful to my parents,
For they brought me to life.

They did so not just once,
But they pulled me back here,
And now I play the fife.
My HP Poem #2034
©Atul Kaushal

I completed 34 years of age.
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